


Tony Recieves A Phone Call

by xMarrrvelx



Series: Stony Oneshots [Steve Rogers/Tony Stark] [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Hurt Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Steve, M/M, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, to avoid spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xMarrrvelx/pseuds/xMarrrvelx
Summary: Steve's been injured during missions countless times in the past and walked away fine, but now...now it's serious; he genuinely isn't sure if he'll make it or not.So he decides to call Tony.





	Tony Recieves A Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> ***WARNINGS ARE IN THE END NOTES***
> 
> This is unedited, and it’s currently 2:32am so I’m sorry if I made any mistakes. Please let me know about them in the comments!!
> 
> And, uh...enjoy? :)

There was an awful amount of blood.

It seemed to be everywhere: he could feel it's warmth near his left leg, where a knife had been dug deep into his flesh; he could taste it's coppery tang on his tongue as it filled his mouth, staining his teeth red; he could see it as it dripped from a large gash on his forehead and into his right eye, temporarily blinding him.

But they were minor things in comparison to worst of his injuries — three bullet holes in his abdomen, each one blooming a hideously bright patch of carmine that kept spreading, gradually turning his uniform into just one shade: red. It was on the floor, too, pooling around him painfully slowly like a lazy river.

The disgustingly sweet metallic scent of it in the air almost reminded him of an abandoned abattoir that he and the other Avengers had once investigated. His mind was too hazy now for him to remember exactly what they'd been doing (it had been a rather odd mission) but he would never forget the putrid smell of death that had lingered in the air, just as it did now.

Only this time, the blood didn't belong to an animal.

A low groan escaped his throat as he tried to prop himself up against the broken remains of an old brick wall, jarring his injuries in the process. The pain was unbearable — it felt like an icy wind, choking the breath from his lungs as though a noose was around his neck. Fiery bursts pulsated around each wound, intensifying with every shuddering breath he took as he tried to compose himself.

In all honesty, he was surprised that he was still conscious. Super-soldier or not, three shots in the stomach and a stab wound that (he was nearly certain) had caught a major artery was an obviously life-threatening situation. Plus the gaping wound above his eyebrows and the probably-not-certainly-but-most-likely punctured lung? He didn't know what to think, other than that he was very, very lucky to be alive at this point.

Adrenaline. That must've been it.

And _hope_ — that was another thing he refused to let go of. He was clinging to it as though it was a lifeline: _hoping_ for survival; _hoping_ to make it out of the battle field; _hoping_ to see Tony again.

Thinking about his beautiful, loving boyfriend at a time like this brought tears to his eyes and made another part of him ache: his heart. 

Blood-stained fingers fumbled around his belt, searching for the pouch that contained a single, precious item. He breathed a shaky of relief when he found it, grasping onto it, and with all the strength he could muster, brought it up to his face.

It was an ancient relic of a phone that was incredibly simple to use, and it contained just one crucial phone number. Steve accidentally smeared his blood over the screen and keyboard as he frantically pushed the dial button. He pushed it against his ear, and after a few rings—

"Steve?"

He almost cried.

"Tony," He greeted, trying to keep his voice steady, which was rather difficult when you were bleeding out. "Hey."

"Is something wrong?"

"What? N-No, why would you—"

"You never use this phone," Tony stated, and Steve imagine him raising an eyebrow.

"Oh. Don't I?" He laughed nervously, but it was cut short as the movement sparked the terrible pain that had been fading away moments before.

Tony must've noticed his discomfort, somehow. "Are you okay?"

"Yep," Steve lied, gritting his teeth slightly. "I'm fine, don't worry. The mission is kinda at a-a standstill at the moment, though. Um..." He paused, blinking away black dots that had suddenly appeared in the vision of his one good eye. "I got bored, so I...I thought I about calling you." He was surprised by how easy it was to lie.

"Ah, I see," Tony replied, and Steve wasn't sure if he genuinely believed him or not, but he didn't sound suspicious. "Well, it's nice to hear your voice, darling."

"It's really nice to hear yours," Steve whispered, hot tears suddenly stinging his eyes. "I love you, Tony."

Tony took a while to reply, and for one pain-staking moment, Steve thought that the line had cut off. _No_ , he silently begged. _Please. Don't end it there. I need to hear you say it back. Please—_

"Are you sure you're okay, Steve?" Tony chuckled, and Steve released a (painful) breath of relief, realising that the short silence had simply occurred because Tony had been taken aback by his statement. "Did you just ring me up to say that you love me?"

"Aren't you going to say it back?" Steve countered, teasing lightly. Tony laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound that Steve had heard, next to Tony's voice.

"Of course, you old sap." Steve could almost hear him smirking at the comment, and he rolled his eyes. Bad mistake. He moaned slightly as the action blossomed a headache so splitting that he had to shut his eyes for a moment to regain his senses. The phone slipped a few centimetres away from his ear, and he just made out the end of Tony's sentence—

"—you too."

—before the hammering of his brain amade him momentarily pass out.

 

.

 

Steve opened his eyes.

 _What_ _the—_

_Tony._

_Oh God, the phone!_

How long had he been out?! The sun was still burning away in the sky, but Steve couldn't tell if it had moved or not since the last time he looked. His eyes scanned the ground, searching desperately for the phone, and when he spotted it, he actually cried out in relief. _Please work please work please work please—_

"—eve? Steve! _Helloooooooo_? Man, this is the dodgiest line _ever_. Steve! You still there?!"

"Tony," Steve breathed, relief washing over him. "Tony—Yeah, I-I'm still here." _Not for long, though._

"What the hell happened?" Tony asked, worried. _I closed my eyes and almost never woke up again._ "One minute you were here, the next you were gone! I thought you'd hung up on me." Tony sounded genuinely sad, and Steve tried not to cry; if Tony was upset about something as simple as that, how was he going to react when—

He couldn't bare to think about it.

"I'm sorry," Steve said quietly, staring at the clouds in an attempt to distract himself from the bloodied mess that was his body. "Missions are tiring sometimes. I-I, uh, I nodded off."

Tony sounded relieved. "Guess your old age is finally catching up to you, Grandpa," He teased, and Steve smiled sadly. _Yeah_ , he thought, gazing down at himself. _I guess it is_.

It was when he nearly passed out again that he decided to ask The Question. It wasn't ideal to do it over the phone, really, but what choice did he have? He was running out of time, and if he didn't ask now, he'd never...he'd never get the chance again.

"Steve? You still there?" Tony interrupted his thoughts. "You haven't fallen asleep again, have you?" He chuckled.

Steve tried to answer, and nearly choked on his own blood. Ah, right. Punctured lung. He spat red onto the concrete, wishing that he had a drink to wash away it's metallic taste, and when he tried to breath again he found it coming out in short, raspy wheezes.

"Steve?!" 

He felt some of it as it trickled out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin, like a tiny crimson stream, mixing with the dirt and grime, and he shakily drew the back of his hand over his mouth in a sloppy attempt to wipe it off. You need to say something. "Mmnh—" _Say_ _something, dammit!_

"Steve, baby, what's—"

"Tony—" He finally spluttered, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. "I—I want to know—to know something, I want to—"

"What?" Tony sounded scared. "Steve, you sound awful. What the hell is going on? Are you—"

"Will you marry me?"

Tony fell silent in shock. _No, please. Answer me. Don't leave it at that. Not now. Not when I'm about to—_

"Did—did you just _propose_?" Tony finally exclaimed, his voice a mixture of both excitement and puzzlement. "Over the _phone_?!"

"Please," Steve begged, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I need to know."

"Fuck, Steve, you know you shouldn't surprise me like this—" 

"Tony—" 

"I-I have a _heart condition_ —"

"Tony," He interrupted, more sternly. He coughed again, bringing his hand up to his mouth — when he pulled it away, it was splattered with red. "I-I need to know now—"

"You're starting to scare me—"

"Please, Tony. Please. I understand if you don't want—I don't mind if you say no—"

"Why on earth would I say—"

"I know it's sudden, Tony, but I...I need—" Steve paused, squeezing his eyes shut as another tremor wracked through his body. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I need to know. Yes or no? Please..."

"Of course I'm gonna say yes, you idiot."

Steve couldn't breathe for a moment, though this time it wasn't from his injuries. _Did he just say yes?_

"He did. He did just say yes," Tony said, startling Steve, who hadn't realised that he'd spoken out loud. The billionaire made an adorable noise, that sounded just like a giggle to Steve ( _I'm really gonna miss that laugh_ ) and added, "Yes, I'll marry you, Steve. Yes, yes, _yes_ —"

"Oh, thank _God_ ," Steve gasped, tilting his head back in relief. As he closed his eyes, a single tear rolled down his cheek, cutting through the dust on his cheeks — but a smile was on his face, too. "Tony, _Tony_ —"

"Steve," Tony breathed happily. "God, I love you—"

"I-I love you too, but—"

"But why—why now? Where are—"

"Doesn't matter," Steve mumbled, cutting him off and ignoring his fiancé's — _my_ fiancé _, oh my God_ — protests that followed the interruption. "That doesn't—Tony, I-I need you to listen—"

"I am listening, sweetheart, but you're still worrying me a—"

"—to me. I—please, listen to me, Tony—"

Tony exhaled slowly before saying, "Alright, fiancé." And Steve couldn't help but smile warmly at that. _Fiancé_. "I'm listening." 

"Tony," Steve began, swallowing thickly. He could taste metal in his mouth. "Tony, when you—when you finish this phone call—" He had to pause once more as another coughing fit took over, and Tony started calling his name worriedly, but Steve ignored him and forced himself to stop despite the agony that was currently overwhelming him, because he knew that he couldn't afford to waste anymore time, not when—well. "I need you to...in my bedroom — my bedroom, not ours — there's a bedside table with three drawers—"

"I know," Tony said quietly. "I-I remember. But Steve—"

"The top drawer, Tony," Steve continued, forcing his eyes to stay open despite them constantly drooping. "I-I need you to open the top drawer, okay? There's—there's something in there for you, darling. Promise me y-you'll do that...?"

"Steve, you better explain to me what this is all about when you get home, alright? And I swear to God, if I find a bunch of sex toys—"

"Tony," Steve warned. Normally, he would have blushed and chuckled, but right now it was becoming very difficult to breathe, and his vision was blurry and distorted, and he couldn't really feel his legs anymore, and the only thing he could really hear was the blood pounding in his ears, and—and— "Promise me."

"I—" Tony began, breathing deeply. "Okay. Okay, I...I promise, Steve."

Steve inhaled what would most likely be his final breath and said softly, "Thank you, Tony." 

Tony fell silent for a few (precious) seconds, and then finally said, "Steve? What's all this about, sweetheart? I'm flattered that you proposed, but I can't help but feel—"

The words were falling out of his mouth so quickly that Steve was only just able to cut in with, "I want you to—to remember—" _God, he couldn't breathe, he really couldn't—_ "—that it wasn't your fault, that you—that you couldn't have done anything to—to—"

"Steve, why would anything be my—"

"I love you, Tony. I'll always, _always_ love you—"

"Steve—"

The phone fell out of Steve's hand and clattered loudly onto the pavement, but he made no move to pick it up. Instead, the blond's blue eyes simply followed it as it went (a single thought — _a single name_ — popped into his mind for the last time as his head sagged sideways towards his slumped shoulders) and then, finally, with his arms hanging loose by his sides, the light faded from them until they were gazing blankly into nothingness, wide and open, yet dull and lifeless. Unseeing.

 

.

 

Tony stared at the phone in his hand with a sinking feeling in his stomach as the silence at the other end of the line continued to go on interrupted, and wondered what the hell had just happened.

 

.

 

Wrapping his hands tentatively around the wooden handle, Tony pulled the drawer — _the top drawer, Tony. I need you to open the top drawer, okay? There's something in there for you, darling. Promise me you'll do that?_ — open, and inhaled sharply when he unexpectedly came face-to-face with three small objects:

A white sealed envelope.

Steve's silver dog tags.

And a dark, velvet ring box.

His name was written on the envelope in Steve's familiar italic font, but it was the tiny little _open me first!_ scribbled in the top left corner that initially caught his eye, and so Tony went for that to begin with, his hand momentarily brushing against the ring box as he did so.

The letter wasn't sealed properly — the flap of the envelope was simply tucked into the opening, which Tony had been expecting; Steve had always said that licking envelopes was unhygienic — and so it was easy to open. With careful fingers, he took out the folded piece of paper, depositing the empty envelope on the bedside table, and gently opened it, revealing a handwritten note and— 

And a sketch of himself smiling widely, no doubt drawn by Steve's careful hand, with the words ' _My Beautiful Tony_ ' inscribed at the bottom. Tears gathered in Tony's eyes: the picture was stunningly perfect — Steve had captured every detail perfectly, from the freckles on his cheeks to the light curls of hair at the nape of his neck — and the amount of love that had gone into making the art was clearly evident, so much so that Tony's heart swelled with affection.

Oh, _Steve_...

He set the drawing aside, carefully so as not to crease it, and then started on the letter.

 _Hey there, sweetheart,_ it began, and Tony smiled when he noticed a little smiley face drawn in the corner of the page. The doodle was so typical of Steve. _If you're reading this, it means that something terrible has happened to me. I'm so sorry, darling—_

What?

_If you're reading this, it means that something terrible—_

Suddenly Tony couldn't breathe. 

_Something terrible—_

The letter escaped from his shaking hands and floated gracefully to the floor. Tony watched it blankly with tear-filled eyes, and—

And suddenly it all made _sense_ why Steve had proposed so spontaneously; why he'd been coughing and spluttering so much; why he'd—

 _Steve_.

" _Sir, your heart-rate is elevating dangerously. Please try and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself_." J.A.R.V.I.S. announced tentatively. " _Would you like me to alert Dr Banner_?"

Tony shook his head mutely; he just wanted to be alone.

" _Sir, I highly recommend—_ "

"Mute," Tony whispered, silencing the artificial intelligence. Immediately, he felt guilty — J.A.R.V.I.S. had only been trying to help, after all — but the genius couldn't bare the thought of seeing anyone right now, because Steve—Steve had—

 _Steve had written that letter,_ he thought suddenly. _Steve had written it and expected you to read it, so pull yourself together, Stark—_

Dragging the back of his hand across his wet eyes, Tony painstakingly reached forward and lifted the letter from the ground, his fingers quivering so badly that he fumbled and nearly dropped it again before laying it back on his lap.

And then he began to read.

 

_Hey there, sweetheart,_

_If you're reading this, it means that something terrible has happened to me. I'm so sorry, darling._

_I want you to know first and foremost that I love you, and that that's never going to change, regardless of what happens to me. I'll always, always love you, Tony._

_And I also want you to know that this...thing that's happened to me? Whatever it was, whatever happened — it was not your fault. I called you earlier knowing full well that it would be the last time I'd speak to you, because that was my plan all along._

_The mission would be a dangerous one, sweetheart: I knew that from the start. If there was a chance that you were able to help me, I never would have written this letter, or made the call; I still would have said what I said to you, just in person. But the fact that you are reading this means that wasn't the case, and that something went wrong during the mission that you were unable to control. That's something that I knew when I rung you, because I wouldn't have called otherwise, okay? And... I never once thought during my final moments that what happened to me was your fault. At all. So, please, Tony...don't blame yourself for this. I know what you're like, sweetheart, so I'm asking for you now to push aside all of those guilty thoughts because there was nothing that you could have done._

_This is a lot to take in, I know. I'm sorry for proposing to you over the phone. I'd originally planned to save the proposal for our anniversary next week, but when Fury told me about the mission, I thought I'd better be prepared, just incase I...well._

_It's unbeknownst to me at this point whether you'll say yes or no, but regardless of your choice I still want you to read this letter. If you said no, then I understand. Don't ask me how; I just know you, Tony, okay? I know what your reasons would be. That's okay. I understand. I'll still continue to love you. And if you said yes...wow. I'm smiling like an idiot right now just thinking about that. Thank you for saying yes — like I said before, I know you, and I know that couldn't have been easy. I love you so much, Tony. I'm sorry that I can't be there to show you just how much (but it's a lot, trust me). :)_

_You've probably spotted the ring box by now. I had the ring custom made, you know, with vibranium and an alloy I'm sure you'll recognize: gold titanium. Pretty fancy, huh? Natasha had to help me with it a little bit, I'll admit, because I wasn't sure where to go to get that kind of thing made, you know? Normally I'd ask you, but, uh...yeah. I couldn't do that this time around, could I?_

_Now, the dog tags...well, they were left behind for obvious reasons...and I know how much you secretly love them. As for the drawing...I know it seems a little weird to be given a drawing of yourself, but I wanted to include it anyway so that if you're ever feeling bad about yourself, you can look at that picture and see yourself the way I (and others) see you: a beautiful, beautiful human being. That's what you'll always be to me, darling. No doubt you were the last thing on my mind when I..._

_Sorry. I know you don't want to be reminded of that._

_Tony...I'm always, always going to love you, but if at any point you meet someone knew after I'm gone, don't feel bad about it. You deserve to be happy, and if I can't be there to give you that then at least someone else can; I support that completely._

_This must be all very hard for you to accept, Tony, and I understand that...But I don't want this to end up being an excuse for you to not look after yourself properly, alright? You have years and years and years and years ahead of you. Don't let that waste away because of me, okay? Do what you want with it, but don't...don't waste it mourning over me_. _Give yourself time to grieve, of course, but don't..._

_Don't waste your life, sweetheart. Not for me._

_...Alright, darling. I think it's time for me to say farewell now. I know it's gonna hurt you like hell for a long time to see me gone, but don't ever think I'm not with you — I'll always be with you in your heart; in your memories...and I'll be up here watching over you and waiting until the day we meet again..._

_I'll love you forever and always, Tony._

_Goodbye for now, my sweetheart._

_—Steve x_

 

.

 

"Hey, Tony, is everything okay? J.A.R.V.I.S. said that you were—" Bruce stopped in his tracks, eyes widening at the sight of Tony sobbing uncontrollably. " _Tony_ ," He breathed, rushing over to his friend's side. "Oh my, God, are you okay? What's wrong? What's happened? Tony? Tony—"

Tony couldn't speak, ragged gasps of air escaping his mouth instead as he shedded tears, and then suddenly all the strength he had left seemed to vanish at once; he titled forward and sank to his knees — Bruce only just managed to get his arms around him quick enough to cushion his fall — not noticing the way the letter fell from his grasp as he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his palms into his eyes. _Steve. Steve, Steve, Steve—_

"Tony, I need you to breathe, okay? Whatever's happened...we can fix it, alright?" _No, you can't. You can't fix it, because Steve's—_ "I just need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

But all Tony could do, as Bruce held him closer and carded his fingers though his hair, was weep.

 _Steve's_ _dead_...

 

fin. 

**Author's Note:**

> ***WARNING: Major Character Death***
> 
> I’M SORRYYYYYY
> 
> Please don’t hate me :)
> 
> [Disclaimer: I am not a medical expert. Did Steve stay awake for way too long for a person with those injuries? Probably. Do I care? Nah. It's fan-FICTION, after all. Anddddd I am way too tired to deal with it right now]
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
